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Jul 30, 2012

A TV show (namely Myf Warhurst's 'Nice' series on the ABC) recently looked at the concept which a lot of Australian families adopted in the 70s and 80s, and which dates back far earlier; the 'Good Room'. It was the one room in the house that was off-limits to the kids, an adult haven if you like, and where all the good stuff was kept to keep up appearances. The place where Mum went to socialise with the Ladies Auxiliary and shut the door on your fingers if you tried to follow. As Gene Bawden, academic and 'Good Room' expert, said on the show, "You could eat as many Prozacs washed down with as much Gin as you liked, but as long as your Good Room is good and pristine, it doesn't matter; the world thinks that everything's normal and as it should be."

Myf and Tim Wonnacott in the 'Good Room' episode of Nice.

I feel a bit cheated. We never had a good room. Our house wasn't big enough. When you only have 2 and a half bedrooms, a lounge, an eat-in kitchen, one bathroom and an outside rumpus room, every single room was well and truly lived in. And we didn't have good stuff either. I guess Mum probably had one good crockery set packed away for special occasions when they first got married and some precious things my older siblings couldn't touch for fear of the wooden spoon, but by the time I came along 18 years after their nuptials, every piece of mismatched crockery had a crack or chip out of it, and every ornament had been broken and re-glued several times.

I think Mum's attitude to not bothering with buying and putting away 'good stuff' was vindicated, in her mind, when Dad's cousin (niece? my cousin? second cousin? I don't know, one of those relatives you hear about but are never quite sure exactly how they are related to you), lost everything in the devastation of Cyclone Tracy in Darwin in 1974. I continually heard stories of the loss of her good dinner set she had never used, some expensive pieces of china which were sitting in cupboards, pretty glasses received as wedding presents but never drunk from; all the 'good stuff'. The cousin(?) became a preacher of the "Don't save it for best, get it out and use it" ministry. My Mum kneeled at the altar of these teachings and took it even further; she stopped buying anything good.

If Mum had $50 to spend, she would buy 25 crappy things at the $2 shop, instead of one or two nice items from a classier department store. When she went on shopping holidays in Bangkok, Hong Kong, and Singapore, she would come home with her cases full of stuff; none of it particularly good. She once bought 50 hideous touristy gimmicky key rings.
"Look, I got fifty of these!"
"Why?"
"Because they were cheap!"
"But... why fifty?"
"I got a good deal! The box of fifty for $2!"
"But... what are you going to do with fifty keyrings?"
"Give them away. Want one?"
"No."
Poor thing, she was so proud of her bargain hunting. I think we threw away forty of the keyrings when they moved 25 years later.

In an attempt to totally NOT be my mother (to be the anti-mother, if you like), I went a bit the other way. I developed a taste for nice, quality things. Some were expensive, some not, but I did become a bit of a collector. I had a good dinner set for special dinner parties, I had another for less formal occasions, another for casual but nice outside dining, and another for everyday living. Ridiculous. I bought some pretty pieces. I took a bit of a liking to Royal Albert dinnerware. Yeah, that was the expensive stuff. I even had a 'Good Room' of a sort, for a while. At least until it became a bedroom for child number 2.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't all top dollar. I also collect jugs, teapots, antiques, rusty and rustic items; often from garage sales and second-hand shops. But I was a bit precious about the 'good stuff'. It stayed in a cupboard, wrapped in tissue, rarely seeing the light of day. I had learned nothing from Cousin Whatever's teachings.

And then came the equivalent of Cyclone Tracy. In January 2003, the friend who had been my bridesmaid 15 years earlier lost everything in the Canberra bushfires. She, her husband, and two young boys were left with nothing but the clothes on their backs and the car she managed to escape in at the last minute. It makes you think. Reassess. Prioritise.

I don't know that it was as a direct result (probably not, maybe something that was stewing in us for a while?), but we worked out what we really wanted in a home. Number of rooms didn't matter. Comfort and character did. We wanted to renovate. Make our own mark. Get our hands dirty. Sweat and toil. That same year we moved. Downsized. Decluttered. Simplified. Started afresh.

I made sure I designed a kitchen with a plate rack and as much open shelving as possible, so things could be seen, touched and used. No chance of forgetting I have a couple of fantastic, old, enormous mixing bowls if they are staring me in the face every time I use the microwave. No chance of missing Nanna's sweet little gravy boat if it's at eye level whenever I reach for a cereal bowl. I have now used it at various times for cranberry sauce, apple sauce and relish, but funnily enough, never gravy. It's not quite big enough. The Royal Albert is on display and even used. The teapots mock me and my lazy teabags, but at least they do it openly now, not from behind a cupboard door. And the jugs, even the expensive ones, are not just 'stuff'; they have a purpose for which a freshly picked bunch of jonquils from my garden is very suited. Everything is loved and treasured, but not revered; they are utilised and enjoyed.

I have a theory that today in 'middle class' Australia (for want of a better term) our 'good stuff' now comes in the form of gadgets and technology; we collect smartphones, remote controls and flat screens on a far greater level than dinnerware, and our 'Good Room' has been replaced by the office or study. It's now where Mum goes to socialise with the 21st Century version of the Ladies Auxiliary; her blog, Twitter and Facebook friends.

And probably where she keeps the Gin and Prozacs.

Did you have a Good Room and 'good stuff'?Do you have a Good Room now?Do you have any Gin left?

Jul 23, 2012

A is for Archery, Athletics and Armchair Experts.
Everybody at home is an armchair expert. We all know exactly what that loser athlete should have done to go higher, faster, stronger. And we will yell it at the TV constantly.
Athletics is a broad term to cover a lot of events which involve running, jumping, throwing, and jiggling body parts.
Archery is self-explanatory and somewhat boring as far as television viewing goes. A bunch of people standing around, shooting arrows at targets, yawn. Now, if they combined Archery with Athletics, and had moving targets, that would be scintillating viewing. Hunger Games, anyone?

B is for Badminton, Basketball, Beach Volleyball, Boxing and Boobs.
You knew you'd see shuttlecocks, balls, and fists flying at the Olympics... but boobs? Watch all the games closely....

Because sometimes they just pop out.

C is for Canoeing, Cycling and Condoms.Canoeing covers a whole range of canoe and kayak events, cycling covers BMX, road and track events, and condoms cover penises. 150000 condoms will be available for the athletes this year, which equates to about 15 each. Imagine getting lucky 15 times in 17 days, as well as competing in events. That would be a Gold Medal performance.

I believe this girl is saying four times is enough...

D is for Diving and Drugs. Officials are declaring this will be the cleanest games ever, that if anyone cheats with drugs they will be caught. I think they said something similar before Sydney 2000. Anybody remember Marion Jones?Diving scares the crap out of me as I'm not great with heights, so kudos to anybody who can just stand up on that tower, let alone jump off and have the skill to do a double somersault with half twist and come up with no injuries apart from a severe wedgie.

Do you reckon this is his sex face too?

E is for Equestrian.
The art of combining horse and human in a display of grace, strength and stamina. And no, Black Caviar will not be competing. There will be people in funny hats though.

F is for Fencing, Football and Flipping The Bird.
Fencing is not a DIY contest to see who can build the best picket fence, and Football is not the Australian Rules version, but yes, flipping the bird is pretty much the same everywhere.

G is for GymnasticsBoth artistic and rhythmic gymnastics tend to feature heavily on our screens during the Olympics, so be prepared to see a lot of young girls with ponytails and glitter, either kissing, waving and smiling, or crying. But you won't see them eating.

Gymnastics is such a psychological sport, you can lose your head.

H is for Handball and Hockey.
Australians will see a lot of the hockey. Because we are good. And we like to see gorgeous bodies with their bums in the air.
Many years ago when I first discovered Handball was an Olympic sport, I was excited. Imagine my dismay when I realised it was not the schoolyard four-square handball version of my youth, and we don't even have an Australian team. Shattered dreams of Olympic glory, right there.

To be honest, I'd look like a bit of a goose doing this anyway.

I is for Ignorance.There are many forms of ignorance in this country. Like, "I hate daylight savings, it fades my curtains" and "I'm not racist, but there are a lot of darkies working here" (don't even ask). Our ignorance also extends to the rules and intricacies of sports we don't understand completely and are not proficient at, but we have no wish to learn them, because yelling at the loser athlete or idiot referee would not be as much fun if we actually knew what we were yelling about. We also like to remain ignorant of the fact that it takes an awful lot of hard work, skill, guts and determination just to qualify for an Olympic team, let alone compete well, or make a final. We just want the Gold, you wankers.

.J is for Judo.
I will admit I know nothing about Judo. (see Ignorance, above)

It may not be pretty, but at least they are having a crack....

K is for Kaia Kanepi. She is a 27 year old tennis player from Estonia. Good luck if you spot her at all, as they only tend to show the tennis finals and I don't expect her to feature in the medal games, since her biggest win so far was the Brisbane International this year. But she is the best in Estonia, which I guess gets her free tickets to Eurovision.

The Russian Ladies Tennis Team partying at Eurovision. Yeah, that's a lie.

L is for London, Linus Lichtschlag and Love.
London is, obviously, where all the action is, and where you will find Germany's Linus Lichtschlag competing in the Men's Lightweight Double Sculls Rowing. I have no clue about his chances, I just love his name. Maybe Linus will find someone who wants to licht his schlag. (see Condoms, above)

Well, ladies?

M is for Medals, Medal Tally and Missed Opportunities.
Gold, Silver and Bronze medals are handed out for every event, and the TV channels take great delight in flashing the medal tally at us every hour, on the hour. When your country's tally shows only one Gold medal in some obscure shooting event, and 16 Silver medals in the more fancied sports, you can yell at the irritatingly positive TV host, "No, that's not a great accomplishment, that's sixteen MISSED OPPORTUNITIES, YOU HOPELESS WANKERS". (see Armchair Expert and Ignorance, above)

N is for Nozomi Nakano.
Nozomi is representing Japan in the Women's Individual Epee at the Fencing. She is 26, 173cm tall, and... oops... googling her name seems to bring up a lot of links to both fencing and Asian porn...

"Oh yeah, stick it in me, baby..."

O is for Opening Ceremony.
This is when the host country likes to bore the pants off everybody by demonstrating their history through interpretive dance. They tend to skip things like wars, genocide, racism and dreadful reality shows, and focus on the good parts. Fancy lighting, dramatic music, clever aerial tricks and cute children will ensure positive feedback. Engelbert Humperdinck will not.

Please. Just. Say. No.

P is for Pentathlon.
It is celebrating 100 years at the Games and is actually now called the Modern Pentathlon, but to be honest, I don't see anything modern in it. Competitors have to swim, ride a horse, run, fence, and shoot a gun, often while wearing white. Just like those tampon commercials in the 80s.

Beware women in white who can wield multiple weapons.

Q is for Queen. As in Caroline Queen, competing for the USA in the canoe slalom. Oh, and Queen Elizabeth, who is competing for the UK in sailing, I believe.

If Queenie doesn't win a medal, she'll at least get Best Dressed Crew.

R is for Rowing and Rain.
Fact: It is London. There will be some rain.
And rowers. Men with amazing arms, what's not to love? Enough said.

Would you look at the size of their... equipment...

S is for Sailing, Shooting, Swimming, Synchronised Swimming.Australians love water sports. We embrace swimming for reasons already mentioned. (see Hockey, above)Sailing is also a big pastime, though for television viewing excitement it does tend to be a tad lacking, with winning the America's Cup in the 80s, and Jessica Watson's homecoming after sailing solo around the world being the only exceptions.In light of recent events, I will not make a joke about combining shooting and synchronised swimming.

Somebody here didn't get the memo about the last minute costume change...

T is for Table Tennis, Taekwondo, Tennis, Trampoline and Triathlon.
Bats, blocks, balls, bounces, and bikes. I have done all of these. Taekwondo is like Mahjong, yes? Oh. (see Ignorance, above)

This may or may not be me.

U is for Urine Sample.
This is what the athletes must give, on demand and under supervision, when drug tested. This is no time to develop stage fright. I wonder if a drug official will one day write a best-selling book about everybody's urine samples.... 50 Shades of Piss.

"Put your hands up, all those who cheated..."

V is for Volleyball.I tried to play volleyball in high school. The girl next to me broke her arm. I quit.Volleyball is actually an exciting, athletic game of high-fiving, slapping, patting, hugging, cheering and huddling, punctuated by playing a few points now and then.

I love you, man

W is for Water Polo, Weightlifting and Wrestling.Some would say that water polo is like weightlifting, wrestling and handball combined, just in water. They'd probably be right. There is certainly plenty of snatching, lifting, jerking, pushing, slapping, grabbing and holding, often with comical results (see Boobs, above).Weightlifting is much simpler. You eat some burgers, sniff some salts, slap chalk on your hands and go lift a car.Wrestling is more complicated. I am oblivious to the technicalities of the sport (see Ignorance, above), but it looks a bit like angry sex, without any of the enjoyment.

This is the little known Head-Up-Arse-Half-Nelson wrestling hold.

X is for Xiaoxu Xu and Xin Xin.
Xu, or TripleX, as I like to call her, is a member of China's women's hockey team.
Xin Xin is an 800m swimmer, also from China, and is just 15 years old.
Xin Xin is also the name of a giant female panda which lives in a zoo in Mexico City. I believe she did not make their Olympic team due to weight issues.

Xin Xin would have made a fine addition to the Gymnastics team. Balance Beam is her specialty.

Y is for Yemen.
Four athletes will be representing Yemen in London. They have an 18 year old running in the Men's 1500m, a 20 year old in the Men's 60kg Judo, a 23 year old in the Men's 58kg Taekwondo, and a stunning young 19 year old student running in the Women's 100m. They are the Department Of Youth. GO YEMEN!!! (By the way, I totally loved Salmon Fishing In The Yemen)

Nothing to do with the Olympics, I admit... I just love Ewan McGregor

Z is for Zohar Zemiro.Zohar is an Ethiopian-born hairdresser marathon runner, who will be representing Israel in London. In 2011, he ran the Amsterdam marathon in a personal best time of 2:14:28, coming in 10th, and qualifying him for the Olympics. When asked for his reaction, he said, "It is the happiest moment of my life". Australians do not understand this under-achieving attitude (see Armchair Expert, Ignorance, Medals, Medal Tally and Missed Opportunities, above).

You Don't Mess With The Zohar... wait, he looks nothing like Adam Sandler...

So it's almost time to grab the chips and booze, sit back, relax, and spend 17 days supporting your country with the age-old cry...(are you ready to yell it with me?)....
"I COULD HAVE DONE BETTER THAN THAT, YOU HOPELESS GIT..."

Jul 19, 2012

Over the last year and a bit, I've attended celebrations for one 60th birthday, four 50th birthdays, one 30th, two 21sts, an 18th, and a 1st birthday. Add to that the 'normal' birthdays for immediate family, Mother's day, Father's day, two Engagements, one Wedding and a Baby Shower, and I reckon I am single-handedly keeping gift card companies, and Dan Murphy's, in business.

Have we become a Milestone-mad society? Whatever happened to letting birthdays slip by quietly so nobody would know our age? Why have we let go of the brilliant tradition of staying 29, or even 39, forever? What happened to spending your birthday quietly at home, counting your wrinkles, drinking Brandivino because it reminds you of your teens, and wallowing in self-pity when you throw up before you finish the bottle, unlike in your teens? Do we have parties to show off our wealth, success or happiness, or to count how many friends we have, or is it just so we can put on high heels, have vodka skolling contests, and fall over in garden beds? At least, I've heard that's what happens.

Why are there 21st birthday celebrations these days? It's a throwback to times when you 'came of age' at 21, everything was now legal, and you were given the 'key to the door'. (By the way, does anybody know what fucking door? I have a ton of keys and don't know what they're for...) Now that kids in Australia are doing pretty much everything by the time their 18th birthday rolls around and they can officially vote, drive, get married and get drunk (not necessarily in that order), surely the 21st shebang has become obsolete? No, apparently not.

And every child 'graduates' with pomp and ceremony, (not to mention the computer-generated, laminated certificate), even kindy kids and pre-schoolers, wtf? I mean, really? Of course they go to the next level, it's no big deal. Have you ever seen a pre-schooler held back a year because they couldn't finger paint and then pick their nose with quite as much flair as the other kids?

Obviously weddings will always remain a joyous reason for a big celebration, but there's nothing wrong with a simple, inexpensive ceremony either (my kids, are you reading this?). I did think engagements would slip by the wayside though, considering couples tend to live together for several years first, and by the time they are ready to tie the knot, have already managed to gather together every household appliance necessary for a happy life of domestic drudgery. I figured once you have all the basic kitchenware you need, you skip the traditional engagement and go straight to the wedding phase so you can ask for expensive sheets with a really high thread count that you'd never buy for yourself. Two large engagement parties in the last 9 months have taught me otherwise (neither couple were living together, that may explain it. I also learned fondue sets must have been on sale.)

And don't get me started on backyard baby-naming ceremonies. You are either religious, in which case you get your kids baptised in a traditional ceremony of your choice (no problem), or you have a cultural connection with traditional rituals you wish to uphold (again, no problem), or you are neither and you just want a party. This, I have a problem with, unless your invite says "No Gifts, we just want you to share in little Blossom Rainshower Nikita-Jay Karen's special day". We all gave you gifts at your baby shower, and again when the little screamer was born, what more could you possibly want?

Throw in confirmations, house-warmings, hen's & buck's nights (which are now often whole day events), divorce parties (possibly as a result of the whole-day buck's party which ended in a prison cell in another state), street parties, fundraisers, farewells, welcome home, Christmas, New Year's Eve, barmitzvahs, school formals, pre-parties, after-parties and assorted Grand Final day piss-ups, and it is very clear that we humans like to mark significant occasions with other humans. Or we just don't like to drink alone.

Well, if you can't beat them, join them. I shall celebrate every occasion with gusto, and vino, and I would like to add to the list of milestones I think we should have celebrated over the years. If they haven't happened to you yet, there's still time to call the party planner.

1. The first time you manage to sneak into your house at some ungodly hour, totally shit-faced, without waking your parents. This is a massive teenage achievement deserving a celebration, assuming you can pull off the straight-faced "No, I was in bed by 1am, stone-cold sober" bullshit the next day. If your head is in the toilet, this may be problematic.

2. The first time your baby sleeps through the night definitely requires a party. Of course, you will be too tired to attend.

3. The day you realise your toddler has gone for 24 hours without peeing or pooing in his/her pants. This deserves a big fuss, involving cake and icecream. Which your toddler will projectile vomit onto your carpet.

4. If you can get through a whole year of birthdays, anniversaries, sentimental occasions, and the holiday season without drunk-texting your ex, this is a cause for wild celebrations. During which you will probably drunk-text your ex.

5. The first time you have sex after giving birth to a watermelon, which required stitches and icepacks. Perhaps a little too personal for a fully-catered function to celebrate, but there should at least be a greeting card to mark the occasion. "Congratulations to the Copulating Couple!" This could be a multi-purpose card, also used for virgins who pop their cherries together, and older folk who discover Viagra after years of impotency.

6. Cooking a tasty, sumptuous meal which the whole family eats with pleasure. (hey, this may not be much to you, but for me this is worthy of a street parade past my house, marching bands and all)

7. Sewing a hem, tear or button, without pricking yourself, and without it falling apart again the very next day. (again, see explanation for number 6)

8. The first time you stand up to your mother-in-law. A momentous occasion. Equal to a diamond jubilee, I'd say, necessitating a river flotilla, church service and concert featuring Annie Lennox wearing wings.

9. Your whole family attends a function, and your kids are drunker and more embarrassing than you. A true rite of passage requiring balloons, cake and Berocca. Something tells me I could be waiting a while for this one.

10. If a whole year goes by with no milestones and no big celebrations, and your credit card debt has actually improved due to the absence of paying for gifts, cards, vouchers, wrap, boxes, ribbons, jukebox hire and a cleanup crew, then THAT, my dear friends, deserves the party of the millennium.
Don't forget to invite me.

Jul 11, 2012

I have this book, and while I understand it has an aim to boost general knowledge and educate... seriously? 4000 things? I know I'm a smart woman, a competent mother, and as such, a crackerjack multi-tasker, but my brain, with its constant cacophony of jumbled noise, voices, thoughts, memories, fears, anxieties, dates, reminders and monotonous sarcastic internal dialogue is also meant to just know yetanother 4000 things on top of everything else?

I can watch TV, tweet, blog, eat, drink, have a conversation, do a Coles order, remember two birthdays, reply to a text, wrap a present, fold laundry and paint my toenails all at the same time, but I'm also supposed to know that the basic laws of heredity were discovered by the Austrian monk Gregor Mendel more than 150 years ago. Are you fucking kidding me? Does it mean I'm dumb if I didn't already know that? And does anyone else find it amusingly ironic that a monk apparently studied heredity?

One fact I already knew was that a baby's head is three-quarters of the size it will be as an adult and a quarter of its total body height. Anyone who has pushed one of those mother-fucking, hole-ripping, watermelon-sized heads out of their vagina knows this. A fact I did not want to know is that by the time a boy is 15, his testicles can make 200 million new sperm a day. I don't want to know because I JUST WASHED THE SHEETS FROM MY 19 YEAR OLD SON'S BED.

Did you know the Arctic beetle can survive in temperatures below -60°C? Since you are not a beetle and probably don't plan on living in such a freezing climate, I'm guessing, like me, you don't give a fat rat's clacker. What is interesting however, is that using sign language, a gorilla named Coco took an IQ test and got a score of 95. Impressive. But did the hairy bitch paint her toenails at the same time, huh, huh?

Possibly the most useless fact, and therefore the one I'm most fascinated with, is that during your life, you will urinate about 45000 litres - enough to fill a small swimming pool. And here's me worrying about the massive water bill we'll get if we decide to put in a pool. There's four of us here, we could just top it up with wee! Hey, if it's good enough for public pools...

So, I'm thinking of compiling a book of 4000 Things Cate Says You Should Know, featuring facts the average person needs to know in their everyday life (assuming you don't live in the Arctic circle). I've decided to share a few examples.

#6. The Silent But Deadly Fart in a public place, followed by the feigning of innocence and passing of blame never, ever gets old.

#45. That warm, squishy feeling between your toes may not just be the sand in your kid's sandpit. Pets shit everywhere, y'know.

#78. The batteries in the smoke alarm will fade and set off the intermittent high-pitched beeping some time between the hours of 1am and 4 am.

#129. You will spend many hours teaching your children to talk and speak their minds, and many years regretting it.

#297. Condoms break.

#341. Regrowth is an itchy bitch.

#650. The baby who used to wake you at 5am every day will eventually become a teenager who sleeps until 2pm every single fucking day of the holidays.

#1128. All parents can really give their children is an education and straight teeth, the rest is up to the kid.

#1733.Wine is the answer, no matter what the question is.

#2905. If you try to do DIY with power tools late at night after a long day, live wires will be accidentally cut through, resulting in loss of power/lights/appliances.

#3020. After 20 years of marriage, the possibility you will both buy each other the exact same greeting card for your wedding anniversary is very high.

Jul 9, 2012

If you don't recognise the title of this post as a line from the hideously lame (and therefore cringeworthy classic) 1986 movie Short Circuit, then it means you are probably a lot younger than me and I hate you.

Or, you just never watched awful movies.

I still hate you.

Anyway, a very new bodacious friend at Life Is Just A Bowl Of Cherries has asked me to bring five alive. Not the robot. Nor Ally Sheedy and Steve Guttenberg's careers; that would be impossible.

But in return for receiving a Fabulous Blog Ribbon, I must share five fabulous moments in my life, five things I love, and five things I hate.

Five Fabulous Moments

1. Seeing that miraculous blue line on the pregnancy test three separate times in my life, after shedding many tears prior, wondering if it would ever happen.

2. "It's a boy."

3. "It's a girl."

4. "Your boobs are magnificent."
5. "I think I should get a vasectomy."

Five Things I Love

1. Being pleasantly surprised when I am pretty much expecting the worst.

2. Chocolate in my hand, wine in my glass and flowers from my garden.

3. "I love you Mum."

4. Laughing so hard it hurts.

5. Youth. Seeing the joys and delights, the possibilities opening up before them, revelling in their fun.

Jul 1, 2012

DAY 16: OUT & ABOUT... the view from Montefiore Hill, across (what's left of) Adelaide Oval, to the city and the blue hills beyond.

DAY 17: IN YOUR BAG... Luckily this is a fairly new bag so I haven't had time to trash it or cram the kitchen sink into it yet.

DAY 18: SOMETHING WE DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU... apparently I was a 3 year old racist. And pretty happy about it.

DAY 19: IMPERFECT

DAY 20: FAVE PHOTO YOU'VE EVER TAKEN...Aaarrrggghhh. I don't do 'favourites'. I cringe when I'm asked for my favourite ANYTHING. Maybe I have a chromosome missing or something, but I just don't have faves in any subject category at all: not songs, not movies, not photos, not children. Impossible. Sigh.I love 'Then & Now' comparisons, so that's what you're getting.

DAY 21: WHERE YOU SLEPT

DAY 22: FROM A HIGH ANGLE... Daughter getting hair done for school formal by my god-daughter.

DAY 23: MOVEMENT

DAY 24: ON YOUR MIND

DAY 25: SOMETHING CUTE

DAY 26: WHERE YOU SHOP

DAY 27: BATHROOM

DAY 28: ON THE SHELF

DAY 29: SOFT

DAY 30: A FRIEND... I thought the theme was 'Friends', plural, and after uploading this pic onto Facebook, I realised it was 'A Friend', singular. I was too lazy to redo, and besides, I have more than one friend. Who would I crop out? Perhaps, if you know any of these people, don't answer that...

You may be disappointed, or immensely relieved, to know I might be taking a break for the July photo a day challenge, as I perused the list of themes and felt I would be repeating photos. I'm still mulling it over and I'll see how I go, but I think there are only so many times I can inflict my face on you all without repercussion. As evidenced by my #photoadayjuly Day 1 Self portrait. Even I don't look real happy about it...